


Yuuri's Got Class

by Ashley2ashes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad English, Denial of Feelings, Eventual Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley2ashes/pseuds/Ashley2ashes
Summary: It's Yuuri's first time at an American school, so his college guidance counselor recommends for him to take ESL classes to help him with his English. There he meets an incredibly annoying, silver haired idiot whom Yuuri definitely hates. He hate's his pretty hair, his dumb, beautiful eyes; he hates him.





	Yuuri's Got Class

**Author's Note:**

> So every translation was provided by my good friend Google Translate. He's not the most reliable friend, but to an idiot like me, it works well enough. If there is anything extremely awkward about any of the translations, feel free to correct me and I will change it.   
> Also, any constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. I am desperate for some inspiration and feedback. Thanks, ya'll!

Yuuri’s brow furrowed at his reflection which frowned back at him in the mirror. He woke up ten minutes early to try and style his unruly hair into something somewhat presentable, but the disarray refused to be tamed. Clearly no amount of time could save him from his immanent bed head. Yuuri always felt like he looked as if he was constantly losing a battle with an ornery blow dryer, and today was no different. Defeated, Yuuri set the comb back onto the bathroom counter and gave his reflection one last apologetic glance before heading to the front door to put on his shoes; he didn’t want to be late.

                Today was his first day of classes in an American school. His first class was his ESL (English as a Second Language) course. Yuuri was still uncomfortable with his English and his school guidance counselor suggested the course to help him get acclimated and socialize. He had never had to rely entirely on his English before, so he avoided any and all opportunities for small talk in the dorm hallways. He’d rather be the quiet one than be subjected into saying something embarrassing or wrong. The only person he really talked to was his roommate, Phichit who was from Thailand. He had a friendly, outgoing personality, and Yuuri admired that; maybe even envied it.

Phichit was actually in his ESL class, too. They originally planned on walking together, but Yuuri had taken so much time in the bathroom, he felt bad for making him wait. Phichit left a few minutes earlier after a fair share of encouragement from Yuuri strewn in awkward English muffled through the bathroom door. He didn’t want to burden anyone, especially Phichit.

                Yuuri finished tying his laces and checked his watch.

*7:50 am*

He put on his backpack and reluctantly opened the door.

A flash of silver dashed past him, causing Yuuri to step back against his door, glasses falling into a slant on his face. He could hear another door slam down the hall, but his eyes followed the silver trail.

“Yuri!!!”

Yuuri’s eyes widened at the sound of his name. At the end of the hallway stood two other students. The silver one was tall. He had a slender yet muscular build, and he looked like a model at first glance. The next cover model of Vouge spoke again.

“Yuri, ty skazal, chto my mozhem idti vmeste!” (You said that we can go together!)

Yuuri remained awkwardly frozen in the hallway, unable to adjust his crooked glasses, but the two didn’t seem to take any notice of his presence. The other guy turned and scowled at the silver hair. He was petite, and his irritated grimace and piercing eyes reminded him of the oni, a kind of ogre-like yokai in Japanese folklore. His soft blonde hair gave a touch of angelic innocence to his appearance that contrasted his ogre face.  What is up with _that_ guy?

“YA nikogda etogo ne govoril!” (I never said that!) The ogre spat back. “Ukhodi!” (Go away!) The two men started down the stairs and out of Yuuri’s sight and earshot, though the latter part didn’t matter because he didn’t speak Vogue model or ogre. He couldn’t know what they were saying, only that the little blonde was yelling, and the silver one looked like an idiot. A damn good-looking idiot, thought Yuuri as he fixed his glasses.

Yuuri’s grip tightened around his backpack strap as he made his first steps down the hallway. His nerves were finally getting to him, triggered by the sound of his name out of the mouth of a stranger. He desperately hoped no one would try to talk with him in class. Except, maybe Phichit. He wasn’t ready to make any conversation, and the silver haired guy really caught him off guard. He would rather die than make a fool of himself in front of _him_ , even if he was some idiot.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As Yuuri entered his class he first noticed the ogre Yuri, still scowling, his arms crossed tightly over his chest sitting slumped at his desk with his legs stretching out as far as they could reach. He appeared to be slightly more irritated than he was back in the hallway. Yuuri wondered what the silver haired guy could have possibly said to make him that pissed off, or maybe that’s just the way his face always looks?  

Yuuri’s eyes searched for Phichit among the other desks. He hoped that Phichit had saved him a seat like he promised when he left before Yuuri this morning.

“Hey Yuuri! Over here!” Phichit called to him.

Relieved, Yuuri navigated himself around the desks towards the front of the classroom. Phichit had stationed himself in the exact middle of the second row and gestured to the desk on his right.

“I told you I would save you a seat, Yuuri!”

“Ye-yes!!! Thank you.” Yuuri bowed his head and sat down carefully.

He unzipped his backpack and took out his binder and a pen to take notes in. Class would be starting shortly, but the professor still wasn’t here. He laid his head down on his binder and squeezed his eyes shut. Waking up early could have only been invented by somebody as evil as the blonde ogre, thought Yuuri. He fought back a yawn by taking in a deep breath. It would take some getting used to having to wake up this early every day for class.

He heard somebody set their backpack down near the seat in front of him. Yuuri peaked up to see silver moonlight sparkling right in front of him. Yuuri blinked a few times to adjust his eyes; he just had to be seeing things.

Oh, he noticed, America’s Next Top Model just sat down in front of me.

Yuuri couldn’t help but study the back of his head. He was perfect, his hair cut fresh, and he smelled like a salty ocean breeze with a hint of something all his own. It was a pleasant smell. Sitting behind someone like this was just unfair. How was Yuuri supposed to see the whiteboard if the shiny silver hair kept distracting him? Yuuri let his gaze fall back down to his desk. His face flushed slightly at his own silly thoughts.

“Yuri!”

Yuuri’s head shot up, eyes wide with surprise at the sound of his name coming from Mr. Perfect again.

But Mr. Perfect wasn’t looking at Yuuri, he was facing the back of the classroom at the other Yuri.

Thank God, thought Yuuri. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with this. Who shouted across the classroom anyway? And the guy didn’t even _know_ that his name was Yuuri. He should be safe from unwanted interactions.  

“Idi syuda!” (Come here!)

“Net,” he heard the other Yuri groan, “Ostav’ menya v pokoye!” (Leave me alone!) He pulled his hood over his head as far as it would go and shoved his fists into his pockets. 

The model sighed and turned slightly, his gaze falling to Yuuri. Yuuri didn’t realize he was staring at him until his own eyes filled with ice blue.

Holy crap! Yuri thought. Those eyes could impregnate me!

The man in front of him smiled, his mouth forming a precious, perfect heart. Yuuri’s face lit up red. He immediately dropped his gaze, desperately wishing for the man to turn back around and ignore him. It didn’t work.

“Hello!”

Yuuri looked up slowly, being careful to avoid peering directly into the deep, blue abyss. He could probably drown in there, and as far as he could tell there were no lifeguards on duty.

“My nayme ees Victor. I am from Russia and my English… not so good.” Victor made a sheepish grin as he shrugged his perfect shoulders.

Yuuri’s heart stopped. This was happening. A conversation. In English. With _HIM_. He gulped down his anxiety and took a haggard breath. Hopefully Victor didn’t notice.

“ Huh-Hi,” Yuuri’s voice cracked. He swallowed again before continuing. “My name is Yuuri. I am from Japan.” It still felt strange introducing himself with his first name, but that was how the American’s did it. The heart shaped smile returned on Victor’s face brighter than the last. It was beautiful. Yuuri just realized he left his own mouth gaping wide open. His mind went to that fuzzy TV static place where it forgot how to make words, or breathe, or blink. This is how I die, thought Yuuri… Death by embarrassment.  

“Your nayme ees Yuuri?”

Yuuri nodded and blushed at the sound of his name, this time meant for him.

“Privet, Yuri!!!” Victor called to the angry blonde in the back of the class. (Hey Yuri!)

Yuri just glared on, ignoring victor completely, and probably wishing his hoodie could hide him from the annoying perfect man calling to him. Victor shook his head slowly back and forth with a tiny perk to his perfect lips and looked back at Yuuri.

“His name ees Yuri, also,” he explained. “He ees my roommate.”

A stocky old man sauntered into the room, dropping his belongings onto the teacher’s desk with an uncomfortably loud thud. The room hung in silence while the man began to scrawl his name up on the white board. Victor turned back around in his desk.

“Morning,” he grumbled in English. It was meant to be a greeting, but sounded more like an observation. “I am Professor Yakov Feltsman . I will be teaching this class.”

That sounds like a threat, thought Yuuri.

Professor Feltsman wore a deep frown, as if it were chiseled permanently into his skin. He looked even more like an ogre than the other Yuri did! Maybe he was the Ogre Boss, Yuuri wondered.

Yuuri’s eyes wondered back to Victor’s silver hair as his first lesson began. Why did this guy have to sit in front of him! What an inconvenience! A distraction! A bother!

Yuuri noticed his heartbeat would not return to normal. It was his anxiety; it had to be fiirst day jitters. Or maybe because he was so self-conscious about his hair? Yes, that’s it. He hoped nobody else could hear the pounding he felt in his chest. It was definitely the nerves, nothing more.

But his nerves never made him feel like _this_ before…

Victor’s hair looked so soft. How high maintenance, thought Yuuri. No wonder the other Yuri keeps yelling at him. He probably hogs the bathroom _all the time_. He’s probably a terrible roommate. I bet he owns 10 blow dryers and uses them all at once... I bet he’s a, he’s…

Yuuri froze. Somehow his hand was _inches_ from the ridiculous moonlight hair. Was he about to stroke it? He pulled his hand back down into his lap where it was safe. Oh that’s so weird why was he so weird? He was just trying to test his theory right? 10 blow dryers. Yes. This was for science. It probably would take ten blow dryers to make his hair as soft as it looked… That makes sense, right? Yuuri felt a pair of nosey eyeballs dissecting him. He knew exactly who’s they were…

Oh crap. Phichit saw everything.

Oh god oh god oh god now he’s going to think I’m some kind of freak with a hair fetish, Yuuri panicked. No no no no, I was just, uh, wait… what was I doing???

Phichit looked back and forth between Victor and Yuuri and smirked when he understood the situation. Whatever he understood, Yuuri did not. Yuuri had absolutely no idea what was going on. Phichit’s eyes twinkled with the evil lights of hell. Oh god, he knew. He knew Yuuri was about to stroke Victor’s hair.

Phichit winked.

Yuuri died a little on the inside.

He bit his bottom lip and rested his chin on his fist, the other hand still in his lap. He stared at the whiteboard while Professor Feltsman wrote whatever it was he was writing. Yuuri couldn’t focus on what it was. Numbers maybe? Was this math class?

Oh god, Phichit is going to say SOMETHING when we get back to the dorm. And Yuuri will be too nervous to defend himself, especially when he has to use his English! How do you say ‘no, I am not a freak’ in English? Would he have time to look it up? Maybe he can sneak back into the room fast enough to pretend like he is asleep? Yeah, that could work!

He heard a crinkle of paper on his left as Phichit quickly wrote something down and placed it on Yuuri’s desk. Yuuri pretended not to notice it and focus on the lesson. Math class, right? Look at all that math up there.

Phichit kicks him from under the desk.

Yuuri squeals with surprise.

The lesson goes silent and everyone, including Victor, turns towards Yuuri. Professor Feltsman grunts, somewhere between unamused and serial killer, Yuuri didn’t know where.

Instinctively, Yuuri stood up.

“Gomenasorry!!!!” He practically shouted, unable to control his volume.

Wait, what the fuck did he just say?

Yuuri wanted to throw up, but he didn’t want to get any on Victor’s hair and ruin it. It took all of his power to hold it in. He squeezed his eyes shut as the classroom erupted into laughter. Well, everyone except the other Yuri. Yuri just leered at him; he couldn’t see it happening, but he could definitely feel it carving disapproval into his back. And, oh god, Victor. Yuuri couldn’t bear to look at Victor.

Yuuri slumped back down in his seat trying to look as small as possible, trying to erase himself from existence while Professor Feltsman’s face twists into a leer. He wasn’t glaring anywhere in particular, just at humanity’s existence. Or at the very least, idiot college students making fools of themselves. The class into uncomfortable silence as the Professor grunts back to the lesson as if nothing ever happened. Yuuri hopes he didn’t make it on his hit list. Especially on the first day.

“He must be really fun at parties!” whispers Phichit sarcastically, still wiping tears from his eyes. Of course he was laughing the hardest at Yuuri. He had this incredible ability to make light of uncomfortable situations, turning them into jokes where anyone could laugh with him instead of someone being laughed at. It helped Yuuri lighten up a bit too. Though, Phichit’s eyes sparkled with something frightening to Yuuri… He had an idea, probably a bad one, too.

“Don’t even think about it…” muttered Yuuri. He could only imagine Phichit throwing a party just to concoct an excuse to invite the Professor. He would probably end up being responsible for everyone’s eventual murder.

Phichit sighed loud trying to get Yuuri’s attention. Very inconspicuous, Yuuri thought dryly. He was gesturing to the paper he put on Yuuri’s desk. He wanted Yuuri to open it. Yuuri wanted to burn the damn thing. He jammed it into his pocket as a show of protest.

Phichit scoffed and folded his arms, feigning a pout.

Yuuri ignored him and turned back towards the board, back towards Victor. Maybe we’re both fools… thought Yuuri. The lesson continued, and Yuuri paid attention to none of it.


End file.
